


i was half convinced i'd waken (satisfied enough to dream you)

by Isolatedwriting



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light drug use, Season 3, Skank Quinn Fabray, and horror movies, groundbreaking, self indulgence in a fic by me, trust me it actually turned out good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isolatedwriting/pseuds/Isolatedwriting
Summary: "Rachel is already fairly sure that a lot of Quinn’s new being is fabricated. The leftovers of whatever she had long ago internalised as being deviant, projected out like an attack. However, that knowledge doesn’t help their interactions so much."Or;Rachel and Quinn form a truce, and watch a few horror movies along the way.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 9
Kudos: 103





	i was half convinced i'd waken (satisfied enough to dream you)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Faberry in like... 7 years?? But its on netflix and i guess im back in the game! This is kinda more warm up than anything to see if im still okay writing them, but enjoy!

Quinn kicks the back of her seat in History. It’s annoying, and disrespectful, and downright rude if Rachel is being honest, but she doesn’t say anything. 

It’s the only time Quinn really gives her the time of day since she left Glee. Since she dyed her hair and got a tattoo and started smoking and distancing herself from everyone. Rachel can’t say with a straight face that she’s surprised Quinn’s gone off the deep end, but it stings that she chose their final year to do it. Just when she admitted they could be friends. Because Rachel has always valued that higher than she should. 

This new Quinn doesn’t want to be friends. Its not unfamiliar, but it is disheartening. 

After a particularly hard pound, which sends Rachel forward with enough force to catch Kurt’s attention from his seat beside her, Rachel has had enough. The teacher doesn’t seem to hear, or care, and Rachel just nods furiously when Kurt mouths a quick “Are you okay?”, fixing her hair before turning to glare at the former cheerleader. 

Quinn’s shoe is already resting uncomfortably close to her chair, and she’s chewing on some horribly neon pink bubblegum when Rachel turns her offended gaze on her. She raises one perfect eyebrow (a challenge), and Rachel ignores her, spinning in her seat again because she’s not able to yell the way she wants too. She settles for a gratuitous huff instead. Her heart is thundering in her chest, like it always does when she looks at Quinn nowadays. 

It’s not five minutes before there’s another push, and Rachel grits her teeth. She can hear her laughing, just a little and under her breath, but loud enough for Rachel to hear, and she’s certain its purposeful. She’s furious, because she hates this kind of needless, violent outcry, but she doesn’t want to say anything to Quinn. 

Because this is all she gets from her at school, and Rachel isn’t willing to close that door just yet. 

* 

Quinn’s new friends scare her a little. Not that that matters or anything. But it is worth saying. 

Its why her palms are sweating when she makes her way over to them. They’re hanging by the dumpsters before school, and Rachel’s nose wrinkles automatically as she nears. 

Throats clear, and Quinn’s attention falls on her. She clicks her tongue, and Rachel notices with a shudder that the cigarette Quinn is rising to her lips is, in fact, not a cigarette. “Are you seriously getting high before you even get inside?” She asks, and she knows she’s said something wrong when the rest of the girls laugh, loud and like a gaggle of witches more than teenager girls. 

Quinn doesn’t quite join in, but she smiles, handing off the joint to one of the others. Rachel stands her ground when she approaches, even as smoke spills out from between Quinn’s lips, too close for Rachel’s liking, but not fully in her face. She cant help bit hope Quinn understands that there is a limit to how much of this she can deal with. Actual smoke in her actual lungs was just a smidge too far. 

“Yeah.” She says. “It makes English more interesting.” 

“There are better ways to academically challenge yourself.” Quinn shakes her head, dismissive and cruel, but Rachel knows its an act. She’s only like this when the rest of her squad is around. Not that that knowledge actually helps quell the hurt in Rachel’s stomach. 

Thankfully, she needs to get to her locker before class, and she spits out the excuse before she takes her leave. 

She hears Quinn’s distinct laughter from behind her, once she’s gotten far enough away for the drug taking to begin again. She’s too afraid to look back and see if she’s laughing at her. 

* 

Rachel is already fairly sure that a lot of Quinn’s new being is fabricated. The leftovers of whatever she had long ago internalised as being _deviant_ , projected out like an attack. However, that knowledge doesn’t help their interactions so much. 

She has been making a lot of effort with Quinn since the whole skankification. More lately, since Quinn has made it clear that she is _not_ coming back to the club, no matter how much Rachel begs. No matter, because Rachel is stubborn, and she worked hard to get to a place where she could call them friends, and she’s not willing to give that up without a fight. No matter how much Quinn grumbles. 

So when Rachel corners her, and demands time together, one way or the other (heavily implying that Glee club might be a cool place to do it), when Quinn huffs, tosses her cigarette on the ground, and stomps it with the heel of her boot. “I’m busy.” 

“All week?” Rachel asks, sincere as she can be, and Quinn rolls her eyes. Its so pronounced that its noticeable behind her sunglasses. And she calls Rachel dramatic. “I find that hard to believe, given your current list of hobbies.” 

“Believe it or don’t, I don’t care.” They’re under the bleachers, one of Quinn’s usual haunts nowadays – the place Rachel always goes to first when she goes looking for her – and Quinn tries to push past her and end the conversation, but Rachel reaches out to grab her by the arm before she can escape. 

Quinn freezes at the contact, moving only to stare down at Rachel’s hand, before she shakes her off, a beat too late for comfort. “Drop it, Rachel, I’m not in Glee anymore, we don’t have to keep doing this.” 

“What are we doing?” Rachel can tell she’s losing this conversation. It feels like that every time they talk now. She almost reaches out to touch her again, but she cowers away at the last second, her hand hanging uselessly between them. 

“I mean, you. You don’t have to keep doing this.” Quinn tries retreating again, but doesn’t struggle when Rachel stops her again. “C’mon, Berry, let it go. You did your piece.” 

“I’m not done.” 

The words hang awkwardly in the air. Quinn is looking at her, trying to deduce what her motive is, Rachel assumes. It’s a tense moment, as Rachel waits for Quinn to make her decision, but eventually she smiles, and the worry melts away. Her smile (when its not wicked) is still the same as it used to be. 

“I’m having a horror movie marathon on Saturday.” Quinn says, suddenly, and Rachel’s body snaps to attention, standing straight. Quinn isn’t looking back at her, and picks absently at her nails. A new habit, or an old one picked up, Rachel hates that she doesn’t know. “You should stop by.” 

“Are the rest of the…” Rachel looks around conspicuously, lowering her voice. “Skanks… will they be there too?” 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” 

“I’m worried one of them is going to physically attack me if I keep this up.” The ‘this’ she is referring too is – of course – her determined and, even she can admit, persistent pursuit of Quinn. But she won’t say that out loud. 

Quinn hears her anyway, and answers her question. 

“No, it’s just me.” Her voice takes on an airy lilt that brings a smile to Rachel’s face, too excited and too powerful to shut down. Quinn sneers back at her, but it doesn’t dampen the mood. “But I’m warning you, these aren’t PG.” 

“I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you that I am not a child, Quinn.” Rachel chides, restless from having won the day. “I can handle a scary movie or two.” 

“Okay, Rach.” Quinn breathes, and the bell rings somewhere. It sounds faint from where they stand. “Can I go now?” 

“Oh.” Rachel steps aside. “By all means.” 

“See you Saturday.” 

Quinn walks away, a sharp bite of tobacco in the air as she passes by, but Rachel doesn’t care. It’s a painfully familiar feeling, deep in her gut, but it doesn’t weigh her down the way it used to. She had gotten through to Quinn before, when the odds seemed stacked against her to an almost epic proportion. She can do it again. 

* 

Rachel doesn’t see Quinn again until Friday, when the day is already over and the call of home is getting strong. She spots a wave of pink hair out of the corner of her eye, and turns to wave before she even considers any alternative. 

Quinn is sitting on the hood of her own car (Rachel is kind of surprised that Judy had allowed her to keep it, but she can’t imagine what she would do in that situation), but that isn’t what causes Rachel to almost trip over her shoes. 

Between her legs, stands one of her girls. Dressed just like Quinn, but scarier because she wasn’t Quinn, the girl’s hands run easily up jean clad legs, so close to their apex that Rachel cant help but look away for their privacy. 

It seems that her polite actions did little of what she wanted, because she meets Quinn’s eyes like a instinct. She’s not wearing her glasses this time, and her tongue is darting out to lick her lips, before pearly white teeth sink down into them, and Rachel finds herself rooted to the ground, standing in the middle of the parking lot, watching Quinn Fabray. 

Watching her throw her head back in a laugh, before leaning down to press her kiss to the other girl’s lips. Rachel didn’t hang around long after that. 

* 

Rachel finds herself thinking about it a little too much. 

Not that she’s at war with herself or anything. She was raised to be perfectly acceptable of all kinds of sexual identities, her own included, but it’s the inherent indignity of it all that leaves her reeling. 

Quinn Fabray. It’s a name that she thinks might always illicit a reaction from her. Even if she never saw her again. But to admit that her reaction to her may be anything more than what it always had been before ( _fear, admiration, comradery_ ) feels like heresy. Because she’s Rachel Berry, and Quinn Fabray has always been a looming presence in her life. 

Nevertheless, she’s not one to deny herself anything, up to and including what scares her. 

* 

Its still weird. Standing outside Quinn’s house, no matter how much their relationship has progressed and regressed over the years, it is still a strange concept, and Rachel can’t help but feel like a rabbit in a wide field, unaware of how many dangers could be closing in. 

Instead of dwelling, she rings the doorbell, and waits. Judy answers, moments later, and Rachel notes the relief in her face when she recognises her. That’s a new thing, but Judy clearly feels some kind of way about everything going on, and Rachel has always been anything but threatening. 

“She’s downstairs.” Judy says, her jaw tight, and Rachel just smiles her thanks. She’s already a little nervous to spend time alone with Quinn, especially this Quinn, and making her way down the darkened steps did nothing to help. She smells stale smoke, and even though she’s come to far to run away now, her heart beats a mile a minute when that head of pink hair turns to look at her. 

“Hi.” 

“Hello, Quinn.” 

The basement is different than the last time Rachel had seen it. But that was over a year ago so she shouldn’t be surprised. Quinn has made it her own, draped in fairy lights, but mostly dark. There was hanging art on the walls, huge pieces that stood out a little from the brick. Rachel assumes its for insolation, but can’t help but note that this has to be the _worst_ room for horror film viewing. 

“I didn’t think you would show.” 

“Why not?” 

“I just didn’t think you would.” Quinn is smiling at her, and Rachel’s stress melts away, because it doesn’t feel like a trap anymore. “Are you just going to stand in the door or…” 

Rachel forces herself forwards. The setup is nice. Quinn has her laptop connected to a decently large television, which has Youtube up, and Rachel notes the history of probably dozens of horror films, analysis and trailers alike. A couple strike her as memorable, and she flashes back to a moment she shared with Puck, as he gushed about his horrible media habits. She doesn’t like the idea of that kind of thing. 

“Quinn… we’re not watching… those kinds of movies, right?” She doesn’t specify, but she doesn’t need too. Quinn looks at the list of film trailers, then back at Rachel, a quirk of her brow the only response she gives. Rachel fights the urge to stomp her foot. “I’m not watching anything that was once _banned_ , Quinn!” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Quinn is challenging her again. It feels like something she’s always done, but she takes visible relish in it now. When Rachel holds her ground, she scoffs, and then pats the couch beside her. “Come here, we’ll barter for one we can both watch.” 

It takes a long time, but they work something out. 

  


* 

Quinn has always been… special. 

Rachel doesn’t fully understand why. Or maybe she does. Either way, new Quinn still had _it_ , as far as Rachel was concerned. She walks into a corridor and you know about it, and that had always been integral to Quinn Fabray. 

So she watches her sometimes. Its not on purpose, and something she’s taken guilty part in since they met. Its easier now. Getting caught isn’t as big a deal, because everyone stared at Quinn now, and she clearly enjoyed it, so there wasn’t the same shame in her gut when hazel eyes met hers. 

The difference is that sometimes, recently, Quinn might smile when she sees her. 

* 

Halloween is next week, and Rachel has found herself watching horror movies with Quinn since September. 

She’s gotten aa little better at it. As certain as she is that Quinn isn’t as unaffected as she claims to be, she is not a reactionary person, not like Rachel is, and Rachel usually finds herself cowering during their movie days. But then Quinn might laugh and remind her that the blood was corn syrup, that the monsters were bad CGI, that the people weren’t real. It doesn’t matter to Rachel. She gets more comfort from hiding behind Quinn than anything Quinn could actually say, and Quinn allows it, because she understands that much by now. 

They’re halfway through Quinn’s choice (the worst of the evening), when Rachel asks for a breather. She’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, the constant tension leaving her twitchy and restless, and Quinn concedes. 

(She admitted to Rachel, some time ago during a particularly horrible viewing of Antichrist, that she’s playing catch up; trying to experience everything she couldn’t when she was Lucy, or a cheerleader, or a pregnant girl. Rachel understands what she’s going for, even if the execution isn’t exactly how she would have gone about it, but Quinn doesn’t want her critique, and for once she keeps quiet.) 

“Are you doing anything?” 

“For Halloween?” 

“No, Rach, for Samhain, or course I mean Halloween.” 

Rachel shakes her head. “I think we can both agree, we’re too old to go Trick or Treating. And I haven’t been asked to attend any parties, if that is what you’re asking.” 

Quinn’s hands are raised in surrender, but she’s grinning, and Rachel’s stomach twists at the sight. She accepted long ago that Quinn is probably going to be the most beautiful person she will ever see, but even under all the dye and eyeliner, it shines through in moments like this, and Rachel is reminded of why she’s here, with this girl, with a scene of disembowelment playing behind her eyelids. 

“The Mack has a free house.” Quinn murmurs, quiet enough that Rachel isn’t sure she actually heard. Or of she was meant to hear. 

“Sounds like fun, Quinn.” It decidedly didn’t, but she wasn’t about to tell her that. 

Quinn gives a little scoff, disbelieving the lie Rachel never expected her to fall for, but powers on anyway. “If you think that, then come along with me.” 

“Please Quinn, I don’t fall for those kinds of things anymore.” Rachel doesn’t actually think Quinn is tricking her, but that doesn’t mean she can imagine anything less appealing than a skank party at The Mack’s house. Did she even have a house? 

“Okay, Rach.” 

* 

They have an extra day off for the holiday, and Rachel is glad for the three day weekend. She’s fallen a little behind on schoolwork, with Glee and final year on her shoulders. 

She is going to miss her friends though, and listening in somewhat jealously at the others’ plans. She is single now, and while that’s all good and well, it means she needs to earn her own social currency, and that’s never been a strong suit. 

So she spends the holidays locked away. 

Until, after 1am on the 31st of October, Rachel receives a call to action. 

She’s still awake, not for any particular reason, but sleep evaded her. She has trouble turning her brain off sometimes, and so, when she sees her phone light up, the only delay that comes in answering is from shock. 

“Quinn?” 

“Hi, Rachel.” Her voice is tentative, nervous, and there’s the selectively awful beat of electro music playing behind her. Rachel cringes hard, her eyes darting to her door. Its open, because she always sleeps with her door open, and she quickly slides out of bed to pad over and close it. She doesn’t need her dads waking up and questioning her. 

“What’s going on, are you okay?” She demands. Its cold without her sheets, so she wraps herself back up and pressed her phone close to her face. Quinn’s breathing is loud, uneven, and Rachel hates to think she’s taking pride in the fact that she called _her_ , but she does, and Rachel’s feelings on the matter are not of consequence anyway. “Where are you?” 

“I’m at The Mack’s!” Quinn peals out into a laugh, and Rachel’s phone buzzes insistently against her face. “Answer the video call, Berry!” 

She does as she’s told, with only a little trepidation, and finds Quinn was half telling the truth. She’s outside, smoking a cigarette under a streetlight. Rachel can see there’s other people around, dressed as serial killers and clowns and cat creatures, but Quinn just looks like Quinn, except for a shock of fake blood across her face. 

“How do I look?” Quinn strikes a pose, and Rachel can tell she is, at the very least, extremely drunk. She stumbles a little, barely keeps herself standing, and Rachel feels a stab of worry. Even though she knows Quinn wouldn’t appreciate it. 

“You look fantastic. Can I come get you?” 

Quinn’s head lolls to the side, a playful look on her face, her eyes narrow. “You wanna pick me up?” 

“I want to make sure you get home safe.” 

Rachel puts her phone down on the locker, facing up so she can keep an eye on Quinn while she dresses. The girl on the other end blabbers steadily on about her night. She really is wasted, and some of the substances she mentions are completely foreign to Rachel. Street slang, she supposes. 

She creeps down the stairs, grabbing her earphones and keys on the way, and she’s in her car before Quinn even asks what’s happening. 

“I’m coming to get you.” 

“I… Thank you.” 

Rachel’s throat feels dry as she loads her phone into the holder. She doesn’t want to hang up and lose sight of her. Quinn has been on the move ever since she called, wandering down the spooky Lima streets. Rachel doesn’t know if she had said goodbye to her friends, or if she should actually be doing this, but she does know where Quinn is. 

Lima isn’t big. And while the streets are fairly base and similar, Rachel recognises the Halloween decorations, and tracks her from there. 

Quinn smells like weed and tequila when Rachel finally corrals her into the car. She’s forces her seatbelt on, even though Quinn takes it off before she can even set her own in place, but Rachel is too tired to bother fighting with her. 

“Rach. Rach. Rachel?” 

“What?” 

Quinn is leaning forwards, draping her arms around the back of Rachel’s seat. She had fought hard when Rachel insisted she stay in the back, but it seems that she is just as dangerous back there as she may have been in front. 

“Thanks for picking up.” Quinn says. “I really needed someone.” 

Rachel smiles despite herself. “As much as I’m sure I wasn’t your first choice, its no trouble.” 

Quinn hums, her eyes sliding closed as she leans against Rachel’s headrest. Rachel lets her rest. She drives past a few houses, toilet papered and decorated alike, until eventually, coming to a stop in front of the Fabray home. Like she senses it, Quinn’s eyes snap open, and she bears her teeth towards the house. 

“I can’t go in there.” 

“That’s your house.” 

“Its my mom’s house.” Rachel pauses for a moment. She understands (in a way, because she has always been empathetic at heart), and takes only a second to start the car again. “Where are we going?” 

“Since you won’t get out, I’m going home. You can come too.” Rachel faces forward, because you need to keep your eyes on the road when you drive, but anxiety flairs. “Or I can drop you off at Santana’s.” 

Quinn shrugs. “She hates me.” 

“I’m sure she does, but she hates me too, so I really wouldn’t worry about it.” 

There’s a burst of laughter, but Rachel keeps her eyes on the road. 

* 

“Shh, please be quiet, my dads are asleep.” Quinn rolls her eyes, but zips her lips, throwing away the key in a theatrical display that almost sends her to the floor. Rachel cannot help but snicker. 

They somehow make it to Rachel’s room without much trouble, and as soon as the door is closed Quinn is laughing again, flopping down across her yellow bedsheets. Rachel had explained that her room is soundproofed while they were in the car, so she could give Quinn some kind of ‘goal’, and it turns out it was a strike of genius. However, now that they’re actually here, in her room, she had to admit it’s a strange sight. 

Quinn – this Quinn - in all her tattered glory, is giggling on her bed. 

“Take your shoes off.” Rachel says. 

Its met with a whiney chorus that is so _un-Quinn_ that she wants to laugh, but that will just get her going again. She’s worried that she’s ingested some kind of ‘upper’ and expects she won’t be easy to put down for the night, so she points her towards her private bathroom, and takes the vacated place on her bed. 

She hadn’t really taken into account while she was driving home that it would mean that Quinn would be sleeping in her bed. But it makes the most logical sense; given her intoxication it was better she be with someone. Rachel knew a good deal about caring for people - putting them in the recovery position and CPR and so on – so it really only made sense. It did make her stomach swirl though. 

She pulls out a fresh pair of pyjamas, tries not to imagine what is about to happen, and makes her way over to the door. Given the amount of time that has passed, she can safely assume that Quinn is done, and knocks twice in a steady rhythm. 

“Come in.” It’s barely a whisper, but Rachel takes a breath, and twists the knob. 

Quinn is standing above the sink, staring at herself in the mirror, and she’s crying. Not a lot, but enough that her mascara is running, and Rachel is frozen in mild horror, staring at her face in the mirror. 

But then Quinn is grinning. “Hi.” 

Rachel finds herself stuttering, her feet carrying herself forward without her command. “You’re crying.” She’s reaching for tissues a she goes, and Quinn shivers like a ghost passed through her, as soon as Rachel reaches out to touch her. 

“I can’t even feel it.” She murmurs, but she lets Rachel work at removing as much make up as she can. 

Later, when they’re in bed, when Rachel is facing the wall, trying her best to get to sleep all over again, but with an added layer of difficulty, Quinn speaks. 

“Are you awake?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry I called.” She’s whispering, and Rachel feels an urge to defend perk up in her chest. 

“Don’t be. There aren’t a lot of people clogging up my line, I’m the best person to call in an emergency.” She says. “I promise, I’ll always pick up the phone when you call, Quinn.” 

Admittedly, as much as she fights it, she falls asleep first. She wakes with an arm around Quinn’s waist, her face pressed into her hair and the sound of the lightest snores she’s ever heard filling the air around her. 

She has never been more charmed by nasal congestion in her life. 

They watch another movie when Rachel wakes up, something Quinn pirates in a tactical display of avoiding advertisements and viruses, and this time it’s a _horror musical_. Rachel didn’t know that kind of thing stretched past Sweeney Todd, but it’s the perfect middle ground. Quinn finds her a whole bunch of them to add to the watchlist. 

* 

Quinn kisses her one day. 

Its almost casual. It would have been, if it wasn’t Rachel’s first ‘girl kiss’, and it wasn’t _Quinn Fabray_. 

Afterwards, when they’re both breathless and confused and Quinn’s eyes are the most honest she’s seen them in so long, Rachel asks her, “Why now?” 

Quinn looks unsure for a moment. They’re in her basement again, under blankets because its somehow always a little cold down there, and Rachel has ended up in between her legs, basically on top of her. Its thrilling. Like facing down a wild beast but knowing what to do. Even though Rachel has no idea what she’s doing. 

“I’m done having things happen to me.” Says Quinn, after a beat. “I want… I want to be the driving force in my life.” 

And that makes sense. 

Rachel doesn’t ask her for more, because they have a lot to talk about, and it isn’t the time, but she does kiss her again. Because kissing Quinn Fabray is exactly what everyone told her it was. 

_Fireworks_

  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween you guys!!
> 
> Please leave me a comment, I'm halfway through my glee rewatch, and I'm fully in love with Quinn all over again you never get over your first!


End file.
